


The gaf-yuj

by savagerhapsody



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagerhapsody/pseuds/savagerhapsody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke learns about an old Grounder tradition. (Clexa)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The gaf-yuj

Clarke emerged from her tent as the evening sun wrapped the Grounder camp in a warm orange glow. The gnawing in her stomach had grown more and more persistent, and she only hoped she could snag a small plate of food from the kitchen without too many suspicious stares from the Tree Clan. As she crossed the camp to reach the kitchen however, she came upon something she had not seen before. A large crowd of Grounders huddled around an expansive clearing. She slipped into the throng to see the clearing marked off with thick, rough strands of rope. A bare ring of tamped earth laid inside.

Two Grounders were stripped down to a pair of loose-fitting pants, stretching and occasionally glaring at each other. The Grounders in the crowd shouted in Trigedasleng, whether it was insults or cheers she couldn't tell. Another beat a drum just outside the ring, the rhythmic pulsing hyping the crowd even further.

To her right stood a tall burly Grounder, unique blackish-blue tattoos forming a design on his face. It occurred to Clarke that his name was Nyko, and had been present at many of the truce-ceremonies thus far. Clarke could tell that the hardness of his muscles betrayed the underlying kindness he had in his heart.

Recognition flashed across his face.

“Clarke. I thought you had left already for Camp Jaha. Did you come to watch the gaf-yuj?”

Clarke's face crinkled.

“The...what?”

Nyko pushed them deeper into the crowd.

“The gaf-yuj is a chance for Grounders to prove the worth of their person, through combat.”

“What do you mean, 'the worth of their person'?”

Nyko looked on, sunny pride glowing on his face.

“Clarke, the Tree Clan is a nation of warriors. Everything comes back to fighting. Everything.”

Nyko gestured to the ring.

“Like, right now. Look at Pallas,” he pointed to a slim short man, with black warpaint smudged over his shoulders and cheeks, “Pallas is our smith, and a damn good one at that. He's getting older, and I have no doubt he's in search of a houmon.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“A wife. He knows that he'll only be deemed valuable as a husband is if he proves himself here.”

Clarke studied the ring, perplexed.

“But why bother fighting at all? If he's good at what he does and a nice enough guy, what's the point of risking getting injured when he's not even a soldier?”

Nyko shook his head.

“Clarke, to our people fighting is representative of everything. If a Grounder can fight, they can protect you and your family. They do not fear pain, or hard work,” Nyko coughed, clearing his throat, “They are able to fulfill any...desires you might have.”

Clarke's eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Okay,” she paused for a moment, “That makes sense.”

Clarke scanned the throng of Grounders and found that indeed about half were young women, dressed in plain beige pants and flowing mud colored tops. Clarke surmised they were Tree Clan citizens, farmers and ranchers most likely looking for spouses. 

A hush swept across the ring. Lexa strode in with Indra at her side. Clarke turned to Nyko.

“Does Le—I mean, the Commander usually attend these events?”

“When she can. Sometimes she gets pulled away by political nonsense. Mostly she just watches. Finds out who's fighting well and who's slacking on training. See—look.”

Nyko pointed to Pallas' opponent, a taller blonde woman with hair shaved to the scalp, thick wool bandages taping down her chest.

“That's Cass. She got ambushed by bandits last season and she broke her ankle pretty badly. She's mostly healed now and trying to show Heda she's back in fighting shape.”

Lexa strode into the middle of the ring, and grasped both opponents by the arms. She shouted something in Trigedasleng that Clarke could not make out. The Grounders erupted in cheers, and the fight went underway.

Just as Nyko had said, the fight came down to Pallas' lack of experience in battle versus Cass' weakened left side. Cass managed to land several gruesome blows on Pallas' face, but it did not take long for Pallas to exploit her weakness. With a swollen bloody lip and a sickly black eye, Pallas managed to take Cass down to the ground. Grabbing her by the left leg, Pallas twisted her leg in a way that made Clarke cringe—made even worse by the mournful howling noises that Cass made.

Lexa rushed in to separate them. 

A loud, celebratory cheer came from the Grounders. Lexa strode over to Pallas and clasped him on the shoulder.

Nyko nodded in satisfaction. 

“He will find his houmon by the end of the season.”

Teeth gritted and upheld by pride, Cass exited the ring barely able to hobble away on one leg. Lexa did not look at her twice.

When the murmurs of the crowd had died down, a lull fell over them, an eager anxiety over who would fight next. Shouts came from the end of camp. Clarke couldn't see around the huddled mass of bodies, but several moments later a huge form appears above the heads of the Grounders, pushing through the crowd.

A man as tall and wide as an oak tree stepped into the ring, covered in elaborate tattoos. Black warpaint resembling a bear's paw marked his cheek, difficult to discern from his long black beard. Clarke nearly gasped when she saw his shoulders. She recalled the Grounders custom of one cut for every life taken. There were so many scars that they had formed into one large wound, impossible to count them all.

“That's Nero. We call him 'Slabamnil'--the Rock Beast. One of the best fighters here. The mind of rock, yes, but just as strong. Be grateful you Skaikru haven't had the pleasure of meeting him.”

Nero beat on his chest, and slammed the earth with a mighty force that startled Clarke. This earned him cheers from his kinspeople.

Nyko cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted something. Clarke gave him a pointed look. Nyko chuckled, full and jolly, resounding like thunder.

“I said that his mother has the appearance of an old sow. It is a common insult.”

In her mind, Clarke was glad that even a nuclear Armageddon wasn't enough to wipe out a traditional “your mom” joke. 

“There's only a few brave, skilled, or stupid enough to fight him. This should be over quickly.”

In the next moment, Clarke saw Lexa step into the ring with Indra at her side. Indra removed the Commander's long coat and blood red sash, revealing bare skin underneath, bandages wound over her chest. Lexa too had a frightening number of scars littering her shoulders, but unlike Nero each one was clean and precise. Lexa had taken great pain and consideration in each cut. She removed her boots and jewelry, which Indra also took.

Cries of shock came up from the crowd and Clarke could tell by Nyko's stunned reaction that this was a rare occurrence. Nyko shoved in front of Clarke, consulting with the Grounders around him. Clarke was uncomfortably pressed between two beefy men, the warm sun making their smell unpleasant (she was being kind).

“Nyko--”

Nyko reached back and pulled Clarke forward.

“This is very strange. I don't understand.”

“Why?”

“Lexa has never fought in the gaf-yuj before. Leaders before her have, to re-assert their dominance, but Lexa's authority is largely unquestioned here.”

Placing her trappings outside the ring, Indra took to the center to stand between Lexa and Nero. Clarke could see Nero's bravado crack just a hair—and Clarke wondered what kind of power Lexa possessed to do this. 

The mood of the Grounders quickly changed to shouts of praise for their Commander. A slow, steady chant of 'Heda' rose up from the people, crescendoing into a deafening roar. Nero did his best to appear unfazed, but his uncertainty was written across his face. Lexa and Nero grasped forearms and Indra raised an arm in the air, declaring the match underway.

Clarke turned to Nyko.

“If Nero is so fearsome, does the Commander really have a good chance to defeat him?”

Nyko smiled.

“You will see, soon enough.”

Soon enough, Clarke did see.

Nero possessed incredible strength, that was obvious. But Lexa's deftness made her nearly impossible to hit. Lexa knew that one wrong move could knock her out, so she made certain not to get hit. Her ability to move in, out, and through Nero's strikes was a thing of beauty. Clarke was reminded of old ballet films she had seen on the Ark.

With each missed strike, Clarke could see Nero irritation growing. After ten minutes in the ring, Clarke suddenly noticed Lexa had made no offensive attempts herself. Clarke leaned in, enthralled by the match. Nyko suddenly spoke.

“I think this has something to do with you, Sky Girl.”

Clarke turned to him, stunned.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can't think of any other reason for her to be doing this. She's never seen the need before. But suddenly, an entire nation falls from the sky—one we are now forming a shaky alliance with? That might be reason enough.”

“Nyko, look!” Clarke pointed at the ring.

Nero was rising off one knee, blood pouring from a cut in his ear.

It occurred to Clarke that for Lexa fighting was all strategy—reading your opponent and exposing the weaknesses, striking only when necessary. Clarke smiled, impressed by the methodical way she seemed to carry herself in all situations.

To her surprise, Clarke winced as she watched Nero hammer her with a fearsome blow to the chest. The wind knocked out of her, Lexa flew a foot back, momentarily stunned.

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. This had to be part of her grand scheme.

Buoyed by the successful hit, Nero stood over Lexa, leg raised in a final kick to end the match.

With the grace and ferocity of a wild cat, Lexa sprung up, seizing Nero by the foot and twisting him off-balance. Nero fell to the ground with a force that shook the earth. Lexa wasted no time, scrambling atop his body and mimicking a crushing blow to the throat—proof of her victory.

A thunderous roar of victory went up from the Grounders.

Through the shouts and exclamations, Nyko leaned down and murmured in Clarke's ear.

“If I had to guess, she's either trying to intimidate you...or impress you.”

Through the crowd, Clarke looked up, only to meet with Lexa's gaze—and an unreadable expression.

“Probably both.” said Nyko.

Clarke smiled.

“Probably both.”


End file.
